


This world, it still has nothing

by counteragent



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/counteragent/pseuds/counteragent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Remix of dariaw's "This world, it still has something" as part of bessemerprocess's Reverse Remix, The Comment Edition. (Where you volunteer to to remix other people's fic and they get to pick the fic. The remix must fit into a single comment box.)</p>
    </blockquote>





	This world, it still has nothing

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [This world, it still has something](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/15247) by daria234. 



> Remix of dariaw's "This world, it still has something" as part of bessemerprocess's Reverse Remix, The Comment Edition. (Where you volunteer to to remix other people's fic and they get to pick the fic. The remix must fit into a single comment box.)

“I’ll never forgive you.” Jo’s face was ghost-pale already. The blood that Jo needed in her veins, the blood that Ellen put there, god dammit—was seeping through their fingers.

“Shhh, baby. Jo, baby, it’s OK.”

“Fuck you, leave.” Jo’s words were slurring.

“We’re gonna get ‘em together, Joanna Beth.” The hellhounds had surrounded the shop but Ellen and Jo would take every last bitch down with them.

“Mom. Please,” Jo raised her eyes to Ellen’s. They were lucid despite the pain. Her baby girl was asking her for one last thing.

Ellen went. Jo pulled the trigger and sent the hounds howling back to hell. Sam and Dean did escape, Ellen found out later. Of course they did. Jo did nothing half ass.

Ellen lived.

***

Sometimes it seemed like no one else did, though. The Croatoan virus went airborne, and well. You were immune or you were dead. Ellen was immune, but giving a shit about it was pretty low on her to do list. Jo had died to save the world and the world had gone to hell anyway. Ellen ended up running the first survivor camp she found by default of competence, but she couldn’t say it was a pleasure. Keeping random survivors alive when she couldn’t safeguard her own blood was a hypocrite’s penance.

Dean knew all about the atonement family required. He’d stumbled into her camp three months later. Without Sam.

***

“Tell me how much you want it.”

Dean was silent. He stood still, his bare skin pale against the dark shade of the forest. His wrists were stretched above his head, bound tight by ropes looped over a thick tree branch. The muscles in his arms strained; he could support his weight fully only by standing on the balls of his feet. His calves clenched and he was beginning to sweat with the effort.

Doing this outside the compound was risky even if intel suggested that the surrounding area was Croat free. Their guns were at hand, propped against the tree trunk. Ellen had made sure Dean could escape easily if he wanted to.

She was pretty sure he didn’t want to. Of course, that didn’t mean she wasn’t gonna make him say it.

She raised the belt. It was simple leather, hers in fact. It made a thick stripe of pink and a meaty thwap across Dean’s back. His shoulders tensed involuntarily then relaxed by force of will. Thwap, Thwap. Two criss-crossing marks joined the first.

The next she aimed at the small of his back, the next along the curve of his ass. Dean hadn’t made a sound. Ellen withheld, stepping in closer. “Tell me.”

She remembered how he’d looked his first day at camp, guilt nearly bending him in half with unspeakable weight. And here he was, stretched to nearly breaking, limbs pulled straight to accept his sentence.

He said nothing. Ellen backed off. “I’ll leave,” she threatened, as to a child who won’t follow. The pine needles crunched under her boots.

“Ellen, please.” His voice was soft but distinct. She could see fine trembles shivering up and down his body as need stretched him tight. He told her after the first time that it was a little like how he’d been bound in Hell. They’d fucked then, the grit of the forest floor sanding its own patterns of reparation on her body.

Ellen raised the belt again. When she was done his back and ass were a landscape of red and pink. No broken skin, but ridges that would bruise like rotten fruit tomorrow. His head was slumped. She stepped around to his front and lifted his chin with her hand until he was looking at her, nowhere but her.

“I’ll never forgive you,” she said.

Dean closed his eyes and Ellen drank in his relief.


End file.
